Written in the Stars
by Iamepical
Summary: A collection of one-shots following Eragon and Arya's turbulent relationship throughout the three novels.


**Yeah, so, just a series of one- shots I wanted to write in no particular order set over the course of the three books. I have a longer fic coming up :D Enjoy!**

**Summary: Arya cannot sleep after the Blood Oath Celebration and examines her feelings for Eragon.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did Eragon and Arya would obviously be together!**

"_How tall the trees, how bright the stars...and how beautiful you are, O Arya Svit- kona," Eragon exclaims, his face aglow with joy as he closes the gap between them._

_His eyes, full of hope and love, scorch her very soul, his words searing through her veins like a lethal poison. She can't deal with this. Give her a thousand Urgals and a Shade and she will fight without question, but breaking the heart of a 16 year old dragon rider is something that she truly can't cope with, for the good of Alagaesia or not. She stares at him, dismay burning in her eyes._

"_Eragon..." she begins, her voice quieter than a whisper._

Arya awakes with a start for what seems the millionth time, her heart thudding in her chest. It is still dark outside and the moon winks down at her as raucous laughter punctures the night from the continued celebrations. The image of his face when she rejected him is still frozen in her mind. She blinks furiously, but she can't shake the memory away.

A sigh escapes her and she finally admits defeat. There is no point trying to sleep when she could be preparing for her journey to the Varden. She flings back the covers and leaps to her feet, shivering as an icy wind snakes around her body. Arya curses herself, enraged that she is allowing this to get to her, but she can't seem to stop herself from playing the scene over and over in her mind. Emotions aren't like the warriors that can so easily be blasted aside. No, they are much worse, lurking in the shadows of the mind until you are at ease once more before they resume their relentless attack.

She can still see him so clearly standing there, face determined, lips carved into a smile, making her feel how she has not felt in so long. A part of her longs to find him and tell him that she didn't mean a word of what she said, that there is no doubt in her mind she feels _something _for him, be it love or not. His name forms on her lips, but some unbidden force snags it like a zip in her throat.

But because of who she is, of who is his, they will never know if that _something _could have been so much more, a simple what if condemned to remained locked away in the dusty crevices of their hearts to haunt them on lonely nights. No, he can never know that there was even a flicker of desire in her heart. She is bound by duty to take the throne from her mother and ensure her race live a prosperous life and he is a dragon rider, bound by duty to free Alagaesia from the reign of Galbatorix. For all the help in the world, in the end the fight against evil will be one he has to undergo alone. For all the _somethings_ she might feel, Arya knows that her destiny is separate from Eragon's.

Right now if might feel like nothing else in the world matters, but Arya knows it is only a phase. The sudden heat she feels every time he looks at her with those intense brown eyes will pass; the burning on her skin she feels every time he brushes past her will fade; the time will come when his words have no more effect on her than a slight breeze. It has to for the fate of Alagaesia depends upon it.

Besides, Faolin once called her beautiful, Faolin told her he loved her, Faolin elicited the same reaction Eragon does. But Faolin is dead. Everything gone in the blink of any eye because of one spell. Perhaps if the world was free of war and evil things could have been so different. Guilt rises like bile inside her as she wonders if Faolin knows that she is betraying his memory with her pathetic feelings for a boy not human or elf who she has spent so little time with when they had decades together. She looks down at her hands and it is startled to find them damp with tears of brutal truth. Arya will never give away her heart so blindly again when it can be crushed into a thousand pieces with such ease.

So she does what she always does: pretends nothing matters. Head held high, gaze impassive, she leaves for the Varden. Wrapping her travelling cloak around her body she heads towards the door. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the handle and a single unbidden tear rolls down her cheek; Arya, the solitary elf without friends; Arya, doomed to remain alone forever. There is only one choice and she can make as she steps through the door and into the night. If she stays a moment longer she will follow her heart and not her head and do something she regrets. She walks quickly, disappearing behind the trees of Du Weldenvarden.

Although she doesn't look back, she can still see him standing there, his face crumbling with rejection, his features contorting with pain as she lied to him. She can't stop herself from asking _is this really the right decision, _even though she knows it must be.

All the same, even for the entire of Alagaesia, it doesn't stop her heart from breaking.

Then a bird's cry shatters the night.

_Wydra. _

**Hope you liked it chumps!**

**I'm not convinced Arya did feel anything for Eragon at that point, but I like to think she did :D Was she in character? I'm awfully sorry about the suckiness of this!**


End file.
